Ship One Ship All: A Million and One Glee One-Shots
by DreamsAreMyWords
Summary: A compilation of multiple Glee one-shots, of various AU's involving multiple random shippings. Do you ship a certain couple on Glee? If so, there's bound to be at least a couple one-shots of them here. If not, request and I'll try to fit one in. Includes crossovers of other series, such as GoT, PLL, SN, HP, DW, etc. Genre varies: some will be comedic, some smut, some drama, etc...
1. Get a Clue (QuinntanaQuick)

_**A/N: Hey there, so this is going to be a pretty much endless series of one shots involving pretty much any pairing on Glee. Whatever goes. (for example, and in no particular order- Quinntana, Faberry, Klaine, Finchel, Brittberry, Brittana, Pucktana, Sebtana, Brochel, Wemma, Fapezberry, Pezberry, Surt, Durt, Shieste, Shuvester, Puckleberry, Quick, Bam, Blam, Blina, Tike, Fabevans, Unholy Trinity, etc etc etc). They'll be generally set in various Glee AU's, and I mean it will be varied. Some will be crossovers, such as Game of Thrones/Glee, Charmed/Glee, Supernatural/Glee, etc etc. Some will have sequels posted as later chapters, probably no farther than "three-shots", while some are just random one-shots. Some will be drama, some angst, some fluff, some smut, etc. Pretty much whatever you wanna find will eventually be on here.**_

_**I'm open to requests. Hopefully will be updated fairly frequently.**_

_**I love reviews so let me know what you think! :)**_

* * *

**AU Title: **Get A Clue

**MC: **Santana Lopez

**Pairing: **Quinntana

**Genre tags:** Romance; angst; drama; friendship; funny

**Summary: **Quinn and Santana have grown up together, but for the past few years Quinn has went to an all-girls boarding school. She just moved back to Lima, and has easily fit in with her long-time best friend Santana, and Mckinley High. The moment she arrived, Quinn practically ruled the school and had every boy wrapped around her finger- and also her best friend. Santana's been in love with Quinn since she was practically learning how to tie her shoes. She knows that Quinn has a little thing for her too, but Quinn is determined to ignore, deny and never acknowledge it.

**Additional info:** _(other pairings within this AU)_: Quick, Bartie, Pezquick. Santana has a random unnamed girlfriend.

* * *

"So are you going to come over tonight, or what?" piped up Quinn as she picked a Dorito out of the bowl and popped it into her mouth. "Pretty Little Liars is on at eight and I want to someone to cuddle with."

I reached over and plucked the last Dorito out of Quinn's fingers before she could eat it. "I don't know. We have Cheerios practice tomorrow." I deliberately crunched the Dorito loudly, causing Quinn to scrunch her face and shoot me a sour expression. "Why don't you call Puckerman and see if he's free?"

Quinn's full lower lip extended in a pout. "Puck's boring. Plus he's a total dick. Cuddling always involves him wanting sex."

"Don't give it to him then," I said, hitching myself up onto the counter and draping one long leg over the other. I absently wagged my foot in tune to the music as I nibbled at a pretzel, eating it section by section. "He sucks in bed anyway."

"That's my point, the sex with him is only good when you're having it with us," said Quinn, a laugh in her tone as she tapped my knees so I would spread them. My heart beat a little quicker as I did so, intensifying when Quinn stepped between my legs, grabbed my arm and lowered my hand down so she could take a morsel of pretzel.

"That's because I do all the work," I teased, snatching the pretzel away from her.

"I think it's because I do all the work, actually, so forget about you," she quipped, biting her lip to keep from smiling and trying to appear playfully stern instead.

"Mmm no, I think it's because we both kind of forget about him actually," I laughed, and immediately regretted my words. There was an awkward silence, and Quinn moved out from between my legs, walking to the bowl of trail mix and tossing a handful into her mouth as an excuse as to why she moved. My face was burning red as I cleared her throat awkwardly.

Another long moment of silence passed before finally, Quinn said, "So, have you talked to Britt lately?"

I shook my head. "Not since the dance. I don't know if she's mad at us for making fun of Artie."

Quinn rolled her eyes, and I felt myself returning to normal after the awkwardness of what just happened between us. "Seriously?" she said. "We were just kidding. It's not like we knew they actually had sex. I didn't think Brittany would…"

"She really likes him, Q," I said austerely, sliding off the counter. Quinn gestured for me to sit beside her. I eased down onto the chair, hoping she had forgotten what I had said a moment ago.

"Okay, well, I guess I'm really not that surprised," she admitted. "Now that I think about it. It makes sense. It's not like any girls talked to Artie before Brittany. So it makes sense she would be his first."

"I guess so," I agreed.

"I think it's a good thing. My first time sucked, and so did yours."

"Don't remind me," I said, my stomach taking a sick turn as I thought of it. Having sex with a male when you're totally a lesbian probably makes for the worst sex ever.  
Quinn's face creased in sorrow. "Oh, I'm so sorry, San. I wasn't thinking." She hurried to my side, put her arms around me. My own arms rose at once in response, wrapping around her as we hugged.

I shook her head, subtly bringing my face closer into Quinn's hair as I did so. It always smelled of the vanilla shampoo she used. "It's okay."  
There was silence as time passed by. We were still holding one another. My arms were around Quinn's waist, held together by gripping my own wrists. Her arms were around my neck, bringing me in tightly. I closed my eyes, breathing in that enthralling scent that was so much Quinn. She had smelled exactly like that for the past years, and I had a feeling she would smell exactly like that for the rest of her life. Her face was buried in my hair as well, and I spared a hope that I smelled as good as she did.

A few minutes stretched by, enough to have deemed our hug awkward. But it wasn't awkward. Helplessly, my hands relinquished their grip on my wrists and moved down to grasp Quinn on either side of her hips. In response, Quinn turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek to mine. I tightened the embrace and heard her slight intake of breath in my ear. It was enough to make me lose my own breath.  
We both nearly jumped out of our skin when the phone on the table vibrated loudly. We leapt apart nearly a full two feet and looked at the phone for a moment, both breathless, before Quinn snapped to her senses and answered it.

"Hi, Mom. Yeah, we're home. Yeah. No. We're out of milk and bread. Okay. Okay, see you later. Love you too. Bye." She clicked off the phone, and then looked at me, her hazel eyes clouded with uncertainty. I couldn't read them for once. I didn't know what to think.

"How have you been, San?" she said softly, taking me aback.

"What do you mean?"

She tilted her head, her expression appearing pointed, as though it were obvious. "You know, with your…girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend," I said, blushing again. "We just have sex when we feel like it. We aren't dating."

"A fuck buddy then," she said, and there was a hint of irritation in her voice that perplexed me. "How's the fucking going?"

"Fine," I said carefully, distracted with my own confusion and wondering why Quinn's expression had turned hard.

"Just fine?" she said disdainfully, one of her eyebrows winging up. "Sex that's just fine is never good sex."

"We don't get to have it much because we have to hide from her parents," I snapped, becoming annoyed at Quinn's aloof insolence. "We've only slept together a few times, but when we do, it's good. She's good. She's a great kisser."

"Hm," said Quinn noncommittally, and I felt a hot shiver run through me as I watched her tongue appear to wet her lips, curving over her bottom lip. _Teasing bitch._

It was a subtle action, but I knew she had done it deliberately. Knew that she was radiating her own opinion and what she thought, leaving words that were not allowed to be said hanging between us. _I can kiss you better._

_Show me,_ I thought, and then I stiffened, my jaw clenching. The fury I felt was sudden and overwhelming. Anger that had been bubbling unbidden within me for weeks finally spewed over, and I snarled, "Fuck off, Quinn," and turned on my heel, storming toward the front door.

I had vaguely suspected for the years that Quinn was a tease, and when she had moved to my school a year ago, as if the rumors weren't enough, Quinn herself confirmed that suspicion. She'd slept through the whole football team, most of the soccer team, half of the basketball team and a few of the baseball boys. The only guys she hadn't touched were in the damn Glee club. But still, though I admitted that I found Quinn to be attractive, I assured myself it was only as a friend, and when Quinn constantly teased me with coquettish jokes and seductive hintings, I had told myself it was only because of her bubbly, flirtatious personality. Even when Quinn had shocked me by casually asking if I'd like to join in a threesome with her and her then-boyfriend, I told myself it was only because Quinn was a total sex freak with kinky fantasies. But it wasn't just that. She didn't ask anyone else and never had. I knew I was her closest friend, and that Brittany would never agree to such a thing, so there wasn't really anyone else in particular that Quinn could have asked. But there were plenty of other sex freaks on the cheerleading squad. I knew a couple of them would probably love the chance to have a threesome with Quinn and Puck, just because the two of them practically ruled the entire school. But it was only ever me. And why? Because Quinn had feelings for me. More than friendly ones. And she was too fucking stupid to see that.

Disgusted with myself at having a lump in my throat and tears stinging my eyes, I flew down the road, driving a good fifteen miles over the limit. I was lucky that there weren't any police around. When I reached my house, I stormed out of the car, slamming the car door, then the front door, then the bedroom door behind me. There in my room I finally let the tears fall, and angrily I drove my fist into my pillow before dropping my head onto it and allowing myself to sob. _Why am I crying? _I touched my tears with my own fingertips and observed the wetness on my skin. I thought of Quinn's offended face when I walked out of her house, and I cried harder.

_ I wish you would get a clue, Quinn._


	2. The Morgue Girl

**AU Title:** The Morgue Girl

**MC: **Rachel Berry

**Pairing:** None

**Genre tags:** Supernatural; sci-fi; fantasy; dark;

**Summary:** Rachel Berry is a homeless orphan living on the street. Every day, she finds herself running away from dark shadows that no one else can see but her. Most think she's crazy, particularly since she grew up living above a morgue. But she knows they're there...

**Additional info:** This will be later followed by subsequent chapters from this same AU.

* * *

Terror. A chilling fear that layered my skin with ice, snuck into my very pores and drowned me from the inside.

And yet, I relished it.

It pounded within me, pounded with my heart as I ran down the empty street, and continued to run, run, run, my muscles screaming in protest, my bones aching. I had been at a full sprint for nearly half an hour now. Normally, I could run forever-not only was I naturally athletic, but I had grown accustomed to running for long periods of time. Tonight, however, I hadn't been feeling very well. Caught a stomach bug, I thought with a rush of anger that spurred me to increase my sporadic pace. With the constant precarious situations I constantly put myself into, I couldn't afford to get ill. Not unless I had a death wish.

My bare feet slapped against the cold, slightly damp pavement as I turned out of the ally, charged across the street. New York today, I thought with a mental, strangled laugh. Vegas tomorrow.

There were only a handful of people still out and about at this time of night. Most lingered near the open stores, comfortable enough in the dim light cast from within the buildings that they actually ventured out of them. Stupid, I thought with a snort as I bulleted past them. They would be dead by morning light.

Of course, if I didn't find a place to stop at soon, I would be dead too.

I reached another street, flew by the lone bystander walking down the sidewalk. I could hear the familiar roaring in my ears, growing louder as it approached; on second thought, those people might not even make it through the night.

I decreased my pace slightly as I neared the New York City Morgue, slowing to a trot. Glancing behind my shoulder, I saw that _they _weren't as fervent in their chase. Probably because the sun would be rising soon. I don't think they like daylight. Most likely because it's easier to be spotted in it, and the whole point of whatever mission they were on was to remain discreet. I wandered up the stairs to the morgue, returning the vague smile given to me by the older woman that ambled past me pushing a rusted shopping cart ladled with random pieces of clothing that were as moth-eaten as the overlarge purple fur coat she wore.

The wind picked up, sweeping my hair forward. Ilooked up, saw a glimpse of gray as they swept past overhead. I smiled, cheered as I ran my fingers through my brunnette hair, brushing it back into place. They'd given up. For now.

Relaxing, I walked around the Morgue building, weaved my way through the bushes until I knelt down beside a small vent shaft. I gripped the metal covering, lifted it aside while I reached in with my free hand, groped for the little brass key placed an arm's reach within it. I returned to the front door, used the key and slipped inside. Standing alone in the silence and dark hallway, I took a deep breath, felt my heart swell. I'd missed it here.

My fathers had both worked here, at the New York City Morgue, since before I was born, as had many other generations of my family. Because of that, I'd always been fascinated by death. By the way people could die. There were so many ways.

My footsteps were the only sound as she walked down the dimly lit hallway, found my way to my favorite room.

I opened the dearest drawer, pulled back the sheet to find a corpse that gave my stomach a sick twinge that excited me. His flesh was grotesque and deformed, gnarled, an angry red that appeared as though a fork had been dragged through it. Death at the hands of fire. A burn victim. I wondered if he was murdered.

The next drawer held the body of an elderly woman. I could guess she'd just died of old age.

I started in surprise when I heard a shuffle outside of the door. It sounded as if someone was out in the hallway...

Slowly, I covered the woman with the sheet, gently closed the door. I knew that it couldn't be _them_; when they were gone, they were gone. At least until the next day, anyway. Which meant that someone must have followed me in here.

I crept to the door, hovering in the shadows against the wall. My breathing was perfectly even, my heart beating steadily. I was used to being followed. After all, they follow me everywhere I go. And when they weren't stalking me, the police were. A fifteen year old girl running around New York City in all hours of the night was unsettling, I suppose.


	3. A Klaine First Kiss

**AU Title: **Klaine Kiss

**MC: **Blaine Anderson

**Pairing: **Klaine

**Genre tags: **Romance; kiss; gay

**Summary: **Kurt is an out gay at Mckinley High. Blaine is not. When the two began to grow close from months of being in the same classes and Glee club, Blaine finds it harder and harder to fight his obvious feelings for the boy. One day after Glee club practice, Blaine corners Kurt in the choir room, and completely alone, can't resist what he so desperately wants.

**A short AU Klaine first kiss.**

* * *

Kurt cried out when Blaine slammed him back against the wall. "What are you doing?" said Kurt, alarmed when Blaine pinned his wrists above his head. "Blaine— "

Blaine bent his head, pressed his lips to Kurt's in one hard, chaste kiss. When he drew back, Kurt's eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them.

"Oh," he said.

"Yeah." Their chests both rose and fell rapidly as they stared at one another, both full of doubts and raging emotions. The question was, Blaine thought in determination, did Kurt have the same kind of raging emotions as he did? Nervous suddenly, he moistened his lips, cleared his throat. "Well?"

Kurt seemed to think it over in his head for a long moment before finally saying, "Again. But...slower. Okay?"

The nerves faded, just a little. At least Kurt hadn't completely freaked out, or shut him down. He was willing to do it again, even, which was perfectly alright with Blaine.

Blaine lowered his head to lay his mouth over Kurt's again. Slowly, he parted his lips as Kurt did the same. The sensual velvet sensation of tongue against tongue. The steady drag in the belly during a long, slow kiss.

When he drew back, he was very nearly cross-eyed. Kurt seemed the same way, with a glassy kind of sheen in his eyes that made Blaine want to watch them drift closed again.

"Well?" repeated Blaine, anxious again.

Kurt didn't answer this time, only shook his head with his gaze fixed on Blaine's mouth. Understanding, Blaine kissed him again, releasing Kurt's wrists so he could cradle Kurt's face in his hands. Then, out of nowhere, Kurt deepened the kiss and, quite literally, knocked Blaine out of his socks.


	4. Glee Game of Thrones (Wemma)

**AU Title:** Glee GoT

**MC:** Will Shuester

**Pairings:** Wemma, Ten (or Kerri), Klaine, Blina, Darley (or Mavid), Durt (or Kavid)

**Genre tags:** Funny; crossover; GoT; Game of Thrones; random

**Summary:** Random Glee Game of Thrones. I'm sure you can guess with the help of the Additional Info. I may write a few more chapters of this later.

**Additional Info:**

_**House Stark:**_

_Ned= Will Stark_

_Catelyn= Emma Stark_

_Robb=Finn Stark_

_Sansa=Marley Stark_

_Arya=Kitty Stark_

_Bran= Artie Stark_

_Rodrik=Sam Stark_

_Jon Snow= Santana Snow_

_**House Lannister:**_

_Tywin= Cooper Lannister_

_Jaime= Puck Lannister_

_Cersei= Terri Lannister_

_Tyrion=Rachel Lannister (the Imp)_

_Joffery= David Baratheon/Lannister_

_**House Greyjoy:**_  
_Theon= Mike Greyjoy_

_**House Baratheon:**_  
_King Robert= Ken Baratheon+wife Terri Lannister_

_Stannis= Brittany Baratheon_  
_Robert= Blaine Baratheon+ wife Tina Tyrell_

_**House Tyrell:**_  
_Loras= Kurt Tyrell_

_**House Baelish:**_  
_Lord Baelish= Sue Baelish_

* * *

"Long live the King!"

The chant was repeated three times before everyone in the pub smashed his or her mugs together. Steaming beer spilled all along the floor, but it was no matter. Today was a joyous day.

Finally I was able to see my old friend. When the Baratheon chariot pulled in and he stepped out, it was like twenty years ago all over again. I smiled across the table now at he and his wife, Queen Terri. I narrowed my eyes when she shot me her typical conniving glare, but my scowl quickly faded when King Ken grinned sloppily at me, nodding toward the keg of alcohol perched on one of the long oak tables. He was indicating for me to get more. Politely, I shook my head, gesturing at my mug that was still full. When the King only shook his own head and pointed again at the keg, I sighed and got to my feet, weaving my way through the many tables toward the keg. Ken had always been rather demanding. He was also a bit of a drunk now. In fact, all I ever saw him doing was drinking and eating giant legs of mutton. No wonder he had gained fifty stone since last I saw him.

"Will, come dance!" called out Emma, my beautiful wife. She was spinning on the dance floor with our young sons, Artie and Sam, both laughing and clutching her hands. Her hair was fanning out behind her, an orange flame. Marley, our eldest daughter, stood a few feet back, smiling, her hair just as vividly red as her mother's.

"Father?"

I turned to take in the sight of my eldest son, Finn, standing before me. He was tall and strong, a man now, and I knew he would make the Stark family proud in the future. "Yes?"

"I can't find Mike."

I cursed under my breath. "Damn Greyjoys," I muttered, casting my eyes around the room full of dancing and drinking. We had taken the boy in when his father sent him to us, and though technically others considered Mike to be our prisoner, we had accepted him as a son. "Go speak to Kitty. I believe she and Mike were arguing over the art of swordsmanship last I saw them. Ask her to help you."

Finn bowed his head and retreated before turning and hurrying off. I had just hoped I could finally sit down again, now with a nearly overflowing mug of beer, and finally relax. But then Queen Terri skulked up to my side.

"Well hello, Lord Stark of Winterfell."

The corners of my lips tilted upward in a mechanically polite smile. "Good evening, Your Grace."

She smiled too, though it didn't reach her eyes. Her smiles never reached her eyes. "I just wanted to let you know that tonight while Ken is hunting, I shall stab him dead."

My hand automatically went to my sword in its sheath slung over my hips. "What?"

"I said, tonight while Ken is hunting, he shall bring back a boar head."

I relinquished my grip on my weapon. "Oh. I apologize. I thought I heard you say something else…"

She tilted her head, her eyes cool and calculating over the rim of the wine glass she brought to her lips. "So…have you thought any over the marriage proposal?"

My eyes automatically flickered to Marley, who still stood smiling as she watched her mother and younger brothers dance. "I have…somewhat. Forgive me, but do you not consider David too…" My eyes shifted on the young, thick boy that was currently cutting his mutton with a vengeance. "Willfull, for Marley?"

Terri's brows creased in disdainful nonchalance. "Willful? Please. David follows his grandfather around like a lost pup. He will make a grand future king, and if you so ordain it, Marley will make a beautiful future queen."

I remained quiet. Marley was indeed beautiful, but she was also soft and gentle. Sweet. I wished for her a husband that would treat her kindly, and David did not strike me as a kind soul. For one, all he had been doing tonight was glaring at Kurt Tyrell as though he wanted to eat him up as he did the mutton. I wasn't sure why; I guessed it was because Kurt was continuously speaking to Blaine Baratheon and his wife, Tina. Perhaps David was jealous of his uncle getting so much attention from the other houses.

To stall my words, I nodded and smiled pleasantly at the queen, and headed for the dance floor toward my wife.


	5. Unholy Charmed Trinity (PezberryQuart)

**AU Title: **UCT

**MC: **Quinn Fabray

**Pairings:** The Unholy Trinity, Quo, Pezberry

**Genre tags:** Crossover; Charmed; funny; short; witches; magic; power

**Summary: **The Unholy Charmed Trinity have so many demons to vanquish, it's affecting their personal lives! Stressing Quinn out, ruining Santana's dates, wearing Joe thin, and forcing poor Brittany to listen to her loved ones fight!

**Additional Info:**

Piper= Quinn Fabray

Phoebe=Brittany Pierce

Paige= Santana Lopez

Leo= Joe Hart

Wyatt= Beth Fabray/Hart

* * *

"Quinn!" cried out Brittany, lunging at her. Brittany quickly ducked behind her.

Quinn flicked her hands at the demon. As he burst into flames, his agonizing shriek echoed around the dungeon. Santana smiled, clapping her hands together in satisfaction.

"Well that's that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date to get back to," she said, turning around to go.

"Wait, wait, _wait_! " said Quinn quickly and firmly, stepping forward before Santana could orb away. "What if the other demons come back? We can't just leave Beth without the Power of Three!"

Brittany nodded in agreement. "Remember the Crone incident?" she reminded Santana.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Look, I've been blowing Rachel off everyday since the Crone, and if I don't go now, she's gonna dump me!"

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "San, I don't really think one more day is going to matt—Santana!" she hurried forward, but Santana was already gone. "Damn it!" she said through clenched teeth, stomping a foot down.

Brittany looked apologetic. Quinn rolled her eyes at her. "Oh don't even start. Joe!"

His name had hardly left her lips when he appeared beside her.

"Find Santana," said Quinn irritably, flinging her hand out airily.

Joe's shoulders sagged. "What did she do now?" he asked, exasperated.

"What she always does." Brittany shrugged.


	6. Ruptured Souls (a little side Sebtana)

**AU Title:** Ruptured Souls

**MC:** Mercedes Jones

**Pairings:** None with the MC

**Side pairings:** Sebtana

**Brotp (sistp):** Quinncedes

**Genre tags:** Dystopian; suspense; tense; survival

**Summary:** In a post-apocalyptic AU, the Glee club is instead comprised of a handful of 'rebels' fleeing death. The world is run by an organization of extremists (called The Government) who harvests peoples' souls. The group consists of: Mercedes, Quinn, Puck, Santana, Sebastian, Blaine, Sam, Joe, Tina and Rory.

**Additional Info:** Everyone is a survivor, banding together for protection against soul harvesters. When Santana and Sebastian steal a soul, The Government turns their eye on the group and comes after them. They've been on the run for a couple months, barely avoiding capture and death. The reason they stole the soul was to both spite the government, and in a desperate attempt to "free" the soul, perhaps "curing" humankind (the people without souls basically turned into what Santana would call 'vegetables'), but the soul only disappears into thin air. Everyone is furious at Santana and Sebastian for endangering them and forcing them to be rebels; first they were just avoiding the Government's law, and now they had outright defied it. They find a hideout in one of Quinn's deceased parents houses, but when Santana and Sebastian steal yet again, they're thrust into danger once more...

* * *

Silence trickled by, tick by tick on the old ancient clock hanging overhead on the wall. I sat in the center of the kitchen, my chin propped on my fist and my free hand tracing the spiral patterns in the mahogany surface of the table. Puck sat on my left, impatiently tapping his fingers, and Quinn sat on my right, her gaze fixed down at the intricate blue ink drawn on the skin of her wrist. The pen that she had used was on the table, empty, and the lid lay where it had fallen on the tile floor. I glanced again at the clock on the wall. The hand was still stuck stubbornly on the six. I shifted my gaze onto the glowing numbers on the microwave. Frustration gnawed at my insides. Time was passing so slowly. Too slowly.

Everything was already in place. Our bags were packed, positioned in a large pile on the bed in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs. The only thing I had left to do was release my beloved pet, my swanove. She was one of the first of her kind – a genetically engineered hybrid of swan and dove. I'd had her for three years now – it would have been four next Tuesday. But it wasn't safe to keep her now. It would be selfish of me to try. She wouldn't last a day where we were going. Better to release her now and let her fly in the hope of a miracle, on the slim chance that she would find a place that she had loved as much as here. I should have already released her. But I was stalling. I would get in trouble. But trouble was irrelevant to me now – we were all in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

"Did you hear that?" said Puck suddenly. Quinn and I both stiffened, listening, while Puck shot to his feet, his chair toppling to the floor behind him, and crossed the kitchen in three steps to pull the curtain an inch back and peer out the window. I watched his blue eyes widen. "They're here! They're here."

Quinn and I stood; I was already standing at the window by the time she was on her feet. She slowly pushed her chair in, picked up the lid from the floor and placed it on the empty pen. Then she joined Puck and I at the window, and her brow furrowed. "What are they carrying?" she asked, gesturing her head at Santana, who had her arms wrapped around a large box.

"Dunno." Puck said, squinting at Santana, Sam and Joe as they made their way up the sidewalk toward the house, Santana at the front carrying the box and Sam and Joe flanking her, their heads swinging left and right, wary gazes shifting all around, guns held at the ready. "Maybe they found extra supplies."

"But wouldn't they have left them in the car?" whispered Quinn, and Puck and I stiffened. Surely they wouldn't have…but no. Not again. They would have to be crazy if they had again.

There was a single knock on the door and Puck shot out of the kitchen to get it. Quinn and I made our way to the hall way more slowly; I think we both knew. We were both full of dread.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me? You have to be _fucking joking_. You did it _again_? "

Quinn and I both winced at Puck's words, and the dread in my stomach rose to my throat, choking me. I couldn't believe it. They had committed the same sin they had a month ago, when all this had started. And I knew it. I had known they would do this, Quinn, Puck and I had all_ known_ it. Why would they need to go to the states just to get more supplies? They could have raided a nearby town. No, we had knew, we had known the whole time, and that was exactly why time had went by so slowly. We knew.

"_Why _would you do this?" Puck said furiously; he and the others came into view as Quinn and I entered the hallway. They were all grouped in the end of the hallway, near the front door. Puck was gesturing angrily at the box, which sat on the small end table against the wall. I could hear a faint humming sound as we approached it. The dread in my stomach curdled, making the transition into fear.

"Because, Puck, we need it!"

"That's bullshit, we don't need it! All you're doing is pissing them off, now we're going to be hunted again– "

"We're already hunted!" snarled Santana, her nostrils flaring. Puck went silent, and I could see the muscles in his face jumping as he clenched his jaw. Santana held the glare, and as I looked at her, I noticed there were various twigs stuck in her dark hair. "We're already being hunted, and nothing we do can change that."

Puck's eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer to Santana, his face less than an inch from hers as he spat out the words, "Yes, we are already being hunted. But pissing them off even more isn't going do anything other than give them more reason to hunt us down and kill us. And if they do," he added, a hard glint in his dark eyes, "You'll be the first to die."

"We'll see," said Santana icily, and with a cold expression on her tanned face, stormed down the hallway, up the stairs and out of sight.

There was silence for a moment, until Puck cursed and slammed an elbow into the wall, leaving the plaster cracked. Then he stormed off after Santana, and a terse silence remained, broken only by the odd sound of humming and scuffling from inside the box.

Joe and Sam both nodded at Quinn and I, and then they left too, most likely to rummage around in the kitchen for something to eat. Quinn and I were suddenly the only ones left.

" 'Cedes," Quinn said softly, looking sadly down at the box. "Are you sure we should open this?"

"We have to," I whispered.

We exchanged a glance, one that I couldn't even explain. It was a look full of both despair and resignation. Then, solemnly, Quinn lifted the lid of the box, and we both felt our hearts drop to our feet as our suspicions were confirmed.

The silence was echoed as Quinn lowered the lid.

* * *

Quinn, Puck, Santana, Joe, Sam and I all sat around the kitchen table in an uncomfortable silence. The box was placed in the center of the table, and was still except for the occasional quiver when what was inside it moved. Everyone remained silent, but there was a copious amount of movement; Quinn had found a new pen, and was absently doodling on her forearm. Sam and Joe were both polishing their guns, slowly wiping cloths along the barrels. Puck and Santana were swapping angry glares, seething over their latest argument. And my gaze was snapping back and forth between the box and the clock.

It was almost time.

"What are we going to do?" I finally asked. No one answered. "We leave in twenty minutes," I reminded them, nodding toward the clock. "What will we tell the others?"

"We tell them nothing," said Puck, his voice hard. "We get rid of it and tell them nothing."

"We're not getting rid of it!" snapped Santana, leaning forward toward Puck, fire burning in her brown eyes. "We need it! Getting rid of it is the equivalent of ridding ourselves of the air we breathe!"

"We have no air," retorted Puck. "We have nothing left, thanks to you and your dick of a boyfriend– "

"Sebastian is not a dick!" said Santana loudly, rising out of her chair an inch. The box trembled at the loud noise of her hand slapping down on the table. "You are such an–"

At that moment, a shriek pierced the air as, up in her cage, my swanove voiced her boredom. Everyone stiffened, went silent – and then turned to look at me with anger and disbelief on their faces.

"You still haven't finished getting ready?" demanded Santana, her eyes wide with indignation.

I quickly stood up, looking down in shame. "I just have one last thing to do. I was going to do it earlier, but– "

"You need to do it now, " said Joe in his quiet voice, and Santana's next chide died on her lips. Joe was closer to forty than he was to thirty, with long black pepper dreads. He had the appearance of someone old and wise, and therefore had the ability to evoke awe in others by mere sound of his voice. Though he didn't speak often, when he did, he could usually control the crowd fairly well, so to speak. "They will be here in five minutes."

I glanced at the time on the microwave; it was six forty-five. I looked back at Joe and nodded. As I hurried toward the stairs, I heard Santana call out, "Make it fast! You know we can't be late!"

The quiet of empty rooms crept upon me as I entered the third floor of the four-story home that had once belonged to Quinn's parents. My swannove turned in her cage upon my approach, her sleek white head first swiveling around on her long, arched neck before her body followed. The line of feathers on her head perked up as I opened her cage, reached in. She clambered onto my forearm, her long, spiraling tail feathers twitching beneath her. I stroked two fingertips along the underside of her beak, wishing I could smile back into her dark, intelligent eyes. But there wasn't a reason to smile anymore.

Sadly, I brought her close to my chest, nuzzled her. "Come on, Rach." I brought her to the window, opened it. Unfortunately, I would need to be quick, before someone noticed the open window. I lifted my arm, shook it slightly so Rachel opened her large white wings, beat them once to propel her into the air. She trilled, flew a few feet away, and I raised a solemn hand in goodbye – but then she flew back, circled over my head before landing on my shoulder. She nudged her head into mine affectionately, but I only lifted her off my shoulder, gently tossed her into the wind again. She flew farther out, turned to circle back to me. I quickly closed the window, and she halted, hovering before the glass. I felt my heart break as she cocked her head, obviously confused, but I only touched a hand to the glass. "Bye." I murmured, and then watched as she continued to linger for a moment. Then perhaps she grew bored, or perhaps she understood, and she turned and flew until she was just a speck in the sky, imperceptible and too difficult to see with the naked eye. Swallowing what seemed to be a large lump in my throat, I lowered my gaze— and felt my heart leap sickeningly when I spotted someone in the window of the house across from me, a story below me but still clearly staring up at me.

I had committed the ultimate danger, even worse than what Santana and the others had done for the second time by bringing back the box; I had let them see me.


	7. Affairs of the Heart (FaberryQuam)

**AU Title:** AOTH

**MC:** Quinn Fabray

**Genre tags:** love; drama; angst; smut; sex; lesbian; cheating; love triangle; medieval; castle; queen

**Pairings:** Quam, Faberry

**Summary:** Quinn is the Queen of the kingdom, and has been married to King Sam for five months. Little does he know that she's in love with her maid, Rachel, and despite how dangerous, can't seem to resist going to her bedchamber...

* * *

The castle was silent.

I felt an unease raise the hair on the back of my neck as I crept down the empty hallway. Light flooded onto the tiled floor through the spaced columns that substituted for windows. _Easy portals for suicide,_ I thought. Last year a maid had killed herself by leaping out of one. The year before that another maid stumbled and fell through to her death. It didn't matter how they died. The fact was, in the end they'd met their death. There should be a wall there.

I added it to the growing mental list in my head of things that needed changed.

You could practically feel the kingdom breathing at such a late hour. It unnerved me more than comforted me. It was far easier to sneak around when the castle was bustling, rather than when one could be...following...you...

Unsure suddenly, I swung my head around to peer back behind me. I saw nothing but the darkness. Upon straining my ears, I heard nothing but the pounding of my own heart. I took a deep breath to steady myself, turned back round again. This was the first time I'd ever done anything like this. Sneak out, I mean. It made me ill to my stomach. I hated feeling like a coward. But what other option was there? I was trapped.

I reached her hall, reached the red door I knew belonged to her. Softly, I rapped my knuckles against it. I fidgeted, shuffling my feet as I waited. I heard the sound of a lock turning, and the quiet click of a door handle slowly rotating. Then the door pulled open, and I felt my heart stutter.

She stood a full head shorter than me. Her hair was like the color of dark oak, the precise shade of the brown velvet of her eyes. A smile spread across her face as she met my gaze. I opened my mouth to bid her a greeting and she silenced me by placing a finger to her lips. She angled her head back to indicate for me to come in. When I didn't move, was too nervous to, she reached out, took me by the wrist. Pulled me through the doorway.

The room was bathed in the flickering light from the oil lantern perched on her bed stand. It cast her in such a romantic light, only heightening the already reeling emotions I had. I swept my gaze over her, feeling my stomach tighten and my mouth run dry in anticipation. She wore a thin gown of a faded silver color; I could nearly see through it.

"You are late," she said, and there was laughter in her voice. She took a step closer to me, put her arms around my neck and brushed her lips across mine once, twice, before drawing back to smile at me. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." I bent my head, kissed the top of her own. "I'm sorry I'm late. My advisor was pouring over the scrolls from the library, and it took nearly a quarter of an hour before I could convince him to take his leave."

"It's alright." Still smiling, she unlocked her arms, stepped back until she reached the bed. Watching me, her eyes glittering with the flickering firelight, she eased down until she was lying upon the mattress; her hair tumbled out over the pillow in a gleaming cascade. "Come lie with me, won't you?"

Of course, I wanted to say, but found that I had lost all words. Only gazing at her, I slowly kneeled on the bed, bent over her. The only sound was the crackling of small flames, the beating of my heart, the breaths she took. Her pink lips were curved upward, those dimples flashing as she looked up at me. My heart ached for her, but I knew this was the best I could do. I put my hand to her cheek. Her long lashes fluttered as she closed her eyes, tilted her head into my hand. Her cheeks were coloring, gaining that reddish hue that I loved so much. She always blushed, no matter how many times we'd been here before.

I brushed her hair back from her face, feeling that tightening in my lower stomach when she sighed. She opened her eyes, tilted her head again, and gave me the expression that so clearly smiled and said, _Now?_

I smiled back. _Just wait._

I bent my head, kissed her. Her lips warmed under mine, parted under mine. Our tongues curved together, and I felt the moan building in her throat. Her hands went to my hair, gripped. My blonde hair fell out of the intricate braid like a sheet of silk. Then, when I withdrew to instead press kisses to her jaw, her neck, her hands softened, running through my hair, fingertips dancing at the back of my neck.

As I kissed her, I fingered the buttons on her shirt, unclasped them one by one. Her hair swung as I helped to pull the gown off over her head. Our bare skin touched, and both of our trembles had us shudder together. I still marveled over the fact that she could make me feel so much, all at once. Looking down at her, at her flushed, creamy skin and that hot light in her eyes, I felt my heart stutter again, swell again. I loved her so much that it hurt.

Our breaths were coming faster, our hands moving more roughly as we reached for one another. She rolled over me, fused her mouth to mine. Her breath hitched when I rolled again, pinning her beneath me. Heat collided as flesh met flesh. I fisted the sheets at her sides, struggling to force myself to be patient. I slipped my hand between her legs, my own thighs quivering as I felt her slender fingers stroke where I was hot and wet. I looked down at her, and her eyes were already glazed; she was already gone. Bending down to kiss her, I let myself go too.

I stifled her cry with a kiss.

* * *

It seemed more silent now, with the absence of gasping breaths and the sound of pounding heartbeats beginning to recede. I lay beside Rachel, my Rachel, and felt more happiness than I had all week. That's how long it had been since I was last with her. Seven days, three hours too long.

I felt her fingers stroke down my face from my temple to my jawline before I heard her murmur my name. I turned my head to face her and felt my heart take another pang. She looked stunning, with her flushed cheeks, hazy eyes and tangles of dark, dampened hair. Instinctually, I scooted closer to her, brushed my lips across the tip of her nose.

"Are you okay?" I whispered. I slid my hand down from her shoulder to take her hand, intertwining our fingers. Her skin was slick heat.

She smiled, dimples flashing. "Better." She snuggled closer to me, nuzzling her face into the dip between my neck and shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her, and we laid like that for quite some time before finally she stirred, cleared her throat. "You...you know that I'm in love with you, right?"

I remained still though inside, my heart had leapt. I was sure she could feel it, hammering against my chest. Of course I knew. But we had been careful never to say it.

There was no time for careful now. "You know that I'm in love with you."

"Yes."

I sighed, rolled onto my side, gently nudging her onto her back. "Then you know I have to leave." I stared down at her with a furtive kind of intensity, desperate to remember her exactly like this. I always did this when we were together. Just in case it was the last time I could see her like this.

"Yes..." she repeated, her words tainted with sorrow now. She sat up, smoldered me with a slow, deep kiss. "Be careful." she said when she drew back, and I had risen to my feet. She reached down over the edge of the bed, plucked up my gown. Extended them, waiting as I pulled on my shirt. As I laced up my night dress, she stood, picked up the lantern. "Take this with you, will you? It's so dark in the castle."

"No one can get in," I reminded her, but nevertheless took the lantern. "We have guards everywhere."

"I know. But still..." She walked me to the door, her arms folded beneath her breasts. She was completely naked standing before me. I loved her for that. Not for lack of modesty, but lack of any form of self-conscious doubt. She knew I loved her, for what she considered imperfections and what I considered flawless beauty. Lightly, I traced with a finger the four-inch long scar that spread from her hip to the center of her belly. Then I looked into her eyes, fathomless dark depths, and felt myself fall just a little deeper in love with her. "Goodbye."

She cupped my face in her hands, brought me to her for one last kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered, using a thumb to brush away the tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye.

And before any more could fall, I slipped out the door.

* * *

The walk back to my chambers was long. The firelight wavering across the wall I walked past was eerie, and made me uneasy again. I prayed I wouldn't get caught.

I felt relief as I made it to my room, opened the door without a creak. I put one foot past the threshold—

And then heard a voice from behind me.

"Quinn?"

I turned back to see my handsome husband of five months, Sam, standing behind me. He was porcelain in the moonlight. His flaxen hair was loose, sleeked back and hanging to his shoulders. His olive eyes sharpened as he spotted my tousled hair, the sheen of sweat that was still on my skin. "Where have you been?"

I swallowed, hard. This was what I had been afraid of.

Setting down the oil lantern that Rachel had given me, I took a deep breath and faced my husband.


	8. Coloring Inside the Lines (Bartie)

**AU Title:** CITL

**MC:** Artie Abrams

**Pairings:** Bartie

**Genre tags:** Romance; first love; cute

**Summary:** Kinda tells itself I think.

* * *

The color green slowly crept across the crinkled blue construction paper in a crooked line. It stretched carefully until it reached the other side of the page and disappeared. The green crayon was set aside. A yellow crayon replaced it. It moved in a wavering circle, then added several lines that extended out from it. The crayon slipped back into its place in the crayon box.

Artie Abrams lifted the drawing, squinted at it through round glasses that made his eyes two sizes too big. He peered at his drawing of the sun, then gazed in dissatisfaction at the grass he'd colored in below it. He wasn't very good at coloring. That was why he used crayons instead of colored pencils-he was even worse when he used colored pencils. All of his friends said he was a baby for using them, but he didn't care. His friends called him a baby anyway because he loved Harry Potter. He'd already read all four books out, and he couldn't wait for the fifth to finally be published. The girl that sat next to him at his table, Brittany Pierce, said that the book wasn't going to come out because the one who wrote it died. He didn't believe her, of course. His teacher told him she was lying.

He looked at Brittany out of the corners of his eyes, then gave up and turned his head because he couldn't see below the frame of his glasses. Brittany was the only other kid in his class that used crayons, though that didn't make him any the happier. He looked with disdain at the tub of crayons she had sitting beside her drawing of what seemed to be nothing but squiggles of color. The crayons were all broken and some had their paper peeled off them. He shook his head in disapproval. Brittany wasn't good at taking care of her things. They'd only been back in school for a month and she'd already lost her lunch money four times.

She must have noticed his gaze on her, or perhaps she'd seen him shake his head. She turned to look at him, pushing her stringy blonde hair out of her face. Her huge blue eyes narrowed and her brow creased as though she was angry. He felt a touch of fear-this girl always scared him, just a little, because she was so bold.

"Stop looking at me," she whispered heatedly.

Artie frowned, unsure whether he was embarrassed or hurt. "I wasn't."

"Yes you were." She leaned toward him. She smelled like crayola. "Hey, today you gotta share your lunch with me. I don't have any lunch money."

"No." he said, indignated.

"Do it or I won't be your friend."

"You're not my friend anyway. You call me names."

"So?"

"My mama says that if people call you names then they're not really your friends."

Brittany leaned back, her little pink lips puckering in a mocking pout. "You're just scared of me."

Artie felt more fear and mortification rise inside his thin chest. "I am not! You're a girl. I'm not scared of girls."

Brittany flared up at once. "Girls are just as scary as boys!" she said loudly.

Mrs. Pillsbury, their teacher, looked up from her seat at the desk. Artie noticed and lowered his voice. "They are not. Boys are stronger."

Brittany took the hint and lowered her voice, too. "Are not. I'll prove it. I'll beat you up."

Shock and horror had Artie scooting his chair a couple of inches away from Brittany's. "No you won't. You'll get in trouble."

"Scaredy-cat," she said.

He glared at her.

"Chicken," she offered instead.

"I'm not a chicken, or a scaredy-cat!"

"Yes huh. You won't even fight a girl."

"I thought you said girls were just as scary as boys."

"They are. I'll show you."

Aware that the boy sitting behind him, Mike, was listening to every word, Artie swallowed hard and set his jaw. "Fine."

" 'Kay. We'll fight at recess, beside the swingset."

Artie nodded, feeling sick to his stomach. "Okay."

He was clammy for the rest of the day, his palms so sweaty he could barely hold his lunch tray. He could see Brittany glaring at him from across the cafeteria and he half feared she would stalk over to him and snatch it right out of his hands, but she didn't. After lunch was over...it was time.

The walk to the swing sets felt like the walk to death itself. He was going to die before he could even hit fifth grade and grow up.

Children were rushing past him, hurrying to the swing sets, chattering in excitement about the fight to come. Artie wondered how they'd even found out. Then he was standing in front of Brittany, shaking.

They stared at each other for a moment. Then a look of determination came over Brittany's face. She bunched her hands into fists and came stomping toward Artie as the students surrounding them burst into eager shouts.

"Fight, fight, fight..." they all yelled.

Artie clenched his own bony fists, lifted them. Brittany punched him in the shoulder. Pain spiked all the way down his arm, though it was exaggerated because of all the children's shocked yells. Artie swung his own fist toward Brittany and missed, instead taking a clumsy step and stumbling. Brittany's hands landed on his back and shoved him to the ground. Then she was on top of him, hitting him and clawing him with her nails. He even felt her teeth sink into his forearm. Tears welled in his eyes-tears of embarrassment, shame, anger. He writhed beneath her, screaming, and everything was chaos until Mrs. B, the PE teacher, was suddenly there, pulling Brittany off and barking orders. Another teacher lifted Artie up into his arms and took him to the nurse. He cried for thirty minutes until his parents came to take him home. He told his mother that he wanted to move but she told him no, that she had a job there and that he, Artie, had to be strong.

The next day at school, Brittany was gone. Mrs. Pillsbury said she was suspended. Then they found out she had moved.

The entire school made fun of Artie, told him he was a baby because a girl had beaten him up. They kept making fun of him throughout the remainder of his entire third grade year.

When he was in the fourth grade and got into a car crash and was paralyzed, losing his ability to walk, they started to leave him alone.

That was, until the eighth grade, when Rachel Berry brought a yearbook to first hour and Noah Puckerman stole it to draw crude things all over it, and everyone saw the yearbook picture of Brittany S. Pierce, staring at the camera with a huge smile of missing teeth. They remembered then, and Artie was teased for another year, though it just exasperated him rather than angered him. In nine, tenth and eleventh grade it was forgotten again, and even he himself had almost forgotten it by the time senior year arrived. Graduation was in eight months...

And then...

His life was turned upside down when Brittany moved back to Lima.


	9. Eager Lies (JarleyKarley)

**AU Title:** Eager Lies

**MC:** Marley Rose

**Pairings:** Jarley; Karley

**Genre tags:** romance; break up; friend; secret

**Summary:** Marley and Jake have been together for years, until suddenly he cuts it off- and in a lame way.

_Dear Marley,_

_I wish I didn't have to tell you this way, but it was the best I could do. I don't love you anymore. I haven't for some time now, as I'm sure you suspected. I'm sorry, but I'm leaving you. I never meant for any of this to happen. It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were supposed to have a life together. We were supposed to get married, buy silverware together, have two sons we could put through football and a daughter that would cheer at the games. We were supposed to grow old together._

_Instead, this is what you get. A pathetic letter from a pathetic person._

_All I can say is, this is as much my fault as it is yours. We just grew apart. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wanted more for us._

_You are the last person I ever wanted to hurt. I promise._

_Jake_

I stared in disbelief at the wrinkled letter I held in my hands. _Sorry?_ The guy I'd been head over heels in love with, the guy I'd dated for the past nine years_, _the guy who'd just broken up with me randomly via a handwritten letter, was sorry. He was sorry.

Rage slammed into me. I was glad I wasn't one of those weak girls who became overwhelmed, sank into a chair and dropped her head into her hands before she broke down into wracking sobs. No, that wasn't me. I spun around, found the closest thing accessible-a hideous vase my mother had sent me for Christmas-and chunked it at the wall with all the force I possessed.

I gave a loud huff of disbelieving outrage when the vase, instead of shattering into a million jagged pieces that resembled the current form of my heart, only rebounded from the wall to clatter down the hallway, completely and utterly whole. The equally unattractive dog Mark had bought for us two months ago yelped and scampered away toward the garage, its tiny paws sliding and slipping on the hardwood floor.

I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath. I forced my muscles to relax as I let the breath out through my nose. _Don't get angry,_ I told myself. _You know what happens when you get angry. You make a fool out of yourself. So just calm down. Just calm..._

Yipping. Barking. That stupid little dog was in the garage but I could still hear it. Two months. We'd had it for eight weeks and still didn't have a name for it picked out.

Out of the corner of my eyes I spotted the knife I'd used last night to cut my steak protruding slightly out of the sink. Slowly, I crossed the kitchen, gripped the handle of the knife and lifted it out of the murky dish-water. The dog's barking was still coming from the garage. I could bury the little devil in my backyard. Jake would never suspect—

I jerked when the doorbell rang; the knife fell with a splash of water that slopped over the rim of the sink and onto my white shirt and blue jeans. A laugh bubbled out of my lips as I stumbled a few steps back from the sink. I had just contemplated murdering my dog. I was going crazy. _Jake was driving me crazy. _Anger returned, and I let it warm my body for another minute before the doorbell rang again and I started back to life. I plucked a hand towel from the kitchen table and dried off my hands as I hurried to get the door.

My sister was standing on my front porch, tapping her foot impatiently. She was always impatient. I think it runs in our family.

Her gaze wandered down to the huge wet marks along the front of my body. One corner of her lips quirked up. "Couldn't make it to the bathroom?"

I rolled my eyes and started to walk back to the kitchen as my best friend, Kitty, followed behind me. She never asked to be let in, and I didn't really mind. It wasn't as if I had anything to hide. My entire life, I've been an almost completely honest person. I usually do the right thing and I rarely hurt people's feelings. I only have one secret and, fortunately, Kitty didn't know it.

"It's just water."

Kitty arched a brow as she pulled off her coat and draped it over the back of Jake's ugly blue coach. Okay, it wasn't really ugly. But to me, because I could even now picture him relaxing in it, it was ugly. Angry tears burned my eyes. Blinking them away, I turned my back to Kitty so she couldn't see and started patting damp clothes with the towel again.

"Marley? What's wrong?" Kitty's high-heels clicked against the floor as she moved to put her hands on my shoulders and turn me around to face her.

I sniffed, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay. It was almost sad to think that I was only crying out of anger. Yes, I felt sadness-but it was more of a somber emptiness. A detatched type of melancholy. Jake was going to be my husband. No, he hadn't proposed yet, but he would have sooner or later. We'd been together for nine years, after all. Marriage, children, a life. That's what we were supposed to do. We'd started dating freshman year of high school. We graduated from college last May. It was March now. Nine years, he'd been all I thought about. Except... No, but that didn't count.

Pushing a memory I didn't need to be dwelling on out of my mind, I shook my head at Kitty. "I'm fine." I told her. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

Being typical Kitty, she shrugged and turned away, the hoops on her ears swinging and glinting as black as the short sweep of her hair. "If you say so." Kitty plopped down into the nearest chair. I watched her absently pick at one of her nails before she caught me staring at her. "What?"

She was the most rude, indifferent person I'd ever met. If she wasn't the best person I knew too, I would probably snarl at her to get out. "Nothing," I said, resisting the urge to shake my head as I turned to face the window in the wall above my sink. Jake always had it closed. He didn't like how our nosy next-door neighbor, Mrs. Sylvester, could see so easily into our house.

_My house, _I thought, and reached up to yank the window open. The wind breezed in, and I inhaled it and thought, _Nothing's going to be the same,_ while somewhere behind me I heard Kitty singing to herself while she stole grapes out of the bowl I'd set out on the kitchen table before I noticed the letter, the stupid crinkled letter, folded and sitting in the kitchen chair where Jake would always sit.

_Used to sit._

I fought down anger again. I had anger problems. I really needed to get those fixed. How do you fix anger problems? A stress ball, that's what I need. I turned, grabbed my car keys off the desk beside the hall and began to pull on my jacket. "Kit, I'm going to the store. You coming?"

She sighed, rose, stretched though she'd only been sitting for two minutes. "Yeah, sure, why not." She slung her purse around her shoulder and followed me down the hall. As she paused to slip on her jacket, I opened the door, looking behind me so I could snap at her to hurry. Not paying attention, I didn't see the box sitting a few feet away from the door until my foot slammed into it. Pain speared through my shin as I staggered, stumbled, twisted and fell past the three steps leading up to my porch, finally landing on ground that was muddy from the recent rainfall, my right leg angled below me in a way it shouldn't have been. I heard a loud crack as bone snapped, and the breath rushed out of me as agony shook my body.

"Mar!" Kitty leapt down the stairs, landing neatly beside me. Even in the shock of pain I still managed to think with a grumble, _she's wearing high heels and can jump off my porch and doesn't even twist her ankle._

Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I blew my dark hair out of my eyes and looked to see what it was that I'd fallen over. A toolbox. Jake's toolbox.

This time I couldn't hold back the rage, and I yelled a stream of curse words that made even Kitty blink a few times.


	10. The Morgue Girl Part 2

**AU Title:** TMG Part 2

**MC:** Rachel Berry

**Pairing:** None (yet)

**Genre Tags:** sci-fi; fantasy; apocalypse; dystopian; short

**Summary:** This is a part 2 to the first chapter posted of The Morgue Girl. Rachel Berry has been plucked off the streets by the NYPD and brought to a strange room where a group of equally strange men all clad in black inform her that they need her

* * *

I stared blankly up at the men who looked down at me as though I were some kind of freak who would sprout tentacles any moment.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, I cleared my throat and spoke up. "Does anyone want to tell me what I'm doing here?"

The men all simultaneously blinked as though snapping back to reality. The man situated higher than the others, the one with thin gray hair and so many wrinkles and lines on his face that he appeared to be permanently frowning, shuffled the papers in front of him and aimed his next words at me.

"This...meeting...has been called to order for the sole purpose of granting freedom to one Rachel Berry, and to make a bequest on behalf of the entire world."

I observed his frown and suddenly noticed that there were dark shadows under his eyes. In fact, there were dark shadows in front of every man's eyes.

"What's happened?" I asked, not bothering with tactful politeness. Blunt honesty always worked best. Either they answered my question, or they didn't.

Fortunately this time, they did.

"The existence of our world is in a precarious position," answered the older man, who seemed to be in charge. "And by that, we mean…it's ending."

"Ending?" I blinked.

The men all nodded simultaneously. "You have one week to answer our request. We need you because you are the only one who can see the darkness overtaking. If you agree to help us, we will...halt...in our efforts to place you in a foster care system."

Help them stop the darkness from taking over the world, or go to an orphanage? My choice was obvious.


	11. At the Pool (Samchel)

**AU Title:** At the Pool

**MC:** Sam Evans

**Genre tags:** romance; lust; surprise; friend

**Pairing:** Samchel

**Summary:** Set in the original Glee Universe. Rachel is dating Finn, everything is how it is on Glee. Then one day, the Glee club decides to go swimming. When they go to a pool, and Sam sees Rachel wearing only a bikini, feelings he never knew he had appear...

* * *

It was like a movie. Everything around him suddenly turned to slow motion as she emerged from the pool, water cascading off her gleaming tanned skin as she walked up the three steps, one hand on the railing and the other slicking back her brown hair from her face. Her lips were parted, and that bottom lip his eyes always seemed to stray to was like a magnet for his libido. And, oh, God, she was walking toward him, the strings on the bottom part of her bikini swinging with her hips.

"Hey," she greeted, stopping before him and bending slightly to the side as she wrung her hair out.

He stared at her, at the way her huge, dark eyes were half-lidded because her wet lashes were so heavy, at the drop of glistening water clinging to the center of her lower lip. He was thirsty. He wanted to lick it off.

When he still hadn't answered after a good ten seconds, a crease appeared between her brows. "Sam?"

He wanted to touch her. Not as a friend. Just once, he wanted to be able to put his hand on her, in a completely not friendly way. Touch her anywhere. Trace a hand along the line of her back, cup a palm on the dip of her side where body flared into hip, trail his fingertips down the elegant curve of her neck.

"Sam?" she repeated, straightening and peering into his eyes, a frown in her own. "Are you okay?"

He blinked rapidly, struggling to pull himself together. His body was having just as hard a time. He moved around to stand at the back of the lounge chair, hiding himself from view from the stomach down. "I'm okay," he said, mortified when his voice came out hoarse.

She stood there perplexed and unable to put her confusion into words. His heart pounded as he watched her stand there mulling over his actions. How had he never noticed how absolutely gorgeous she was? Finn was right, Rachel should be a Victoria's Secret model. The shapely legs, the dusky skin, the clouds of shiny brunette hair, the flat belly, just the right endowments, and then that heartbreakingly beautiful face...

At that moment, his body fell in love with hers.

"What are you doing?" she said, frowning at him now. Her confusion had moved into comfortableness; she glanced at the people around them who were staring. To strangers, it would look as though they were having an argument.

"I, uh..." Nervous, he wet his lips. How would he get out of this one? Shit, she was glaring at him now. _Crap._

_Finn was going to kill him._


End file.
